Archaic Ideals
by StumbleAlong
Summary: Ella just wanted to make it to graduation. Maybe find an attractive guy to date, if she had the time. But no, that sketchy librarian had insisted she take home the ancient book of questionable content, and now she was stuck with an archaic assassin in her head. She could only hope schizophrenia was as far as things could go.
1. Dissent

I've had this idea stuck in my head for quite a while. It's not exactly original, per se, but it sounded like fun to write. I just really like the idea of Altaïr butting heads with a snarky, 21st century feminist. I think the dynamics and cultural differences will be really fun to play around with.

Disclaimer: Assassins Creed belongs to its rightful owners. Which I am not one of. I own Ella, Jack, and Amy. And Cardigan Guy. And Drunk Asshole Guy...Okay, I own pretty much all the characters in here, minus Altaïr. Shut up.

* * *

"_The first Crusade ended in 1099, when Jerusalem was captured, after the Battle of Ascalon. Before this battle, the Fatimid Caliphate of Egypt had controlled Jerusalem, raising an army of..."_

Ella chewed on the eraser of her pencil, staring off into space. All throughout high school, her teachers had ranted and raved about how so much more would be expected of them in college. Yet, here she was, watching the same movie about the Crusades as she did in eleventh grade history.

The narrator droned on, standing on a set meant to look like a museum, motioning to decrepit pieces of weaponry and armor. The eraser popped off of her pencil, and Ella flicked it across the aisle, nailing her friend, Jack, in the head.

"Wha'?" He lifted his head from the makeshift pillow of his arms, and blinked at her sleepily. "'S the movie over?" He slurred, staring in her general direction with an unfocused gaze.

"I wish," Ella snorted mournfully. Jack gazed at her for a beat longer, taking a minute to comprehend what she'd said, before gracelessly dropping his head back into his arms. Poor dude hadn't slept properly in days, thanks to midterms.

The professor glared at Ella from his desk, pointedly clearing his throat. She rolled her eyes, and went back her "notes", which was actually a grocery list and a series of tally marks for every time the narrator gushed about something being "truly fascinating".

She'd given up, because it just wasn't worth it to pay attention.

Ella doodled until the end of class, when the prof flicked the lights back on, and muted the dramatic credits music to remind them that they were still his bitches until the big hand was at the two and the little hand was at the six.

"A reminder that your midterm paper is due in a week, and taking notes on our class activities," he shot Ella a pointed look. "May be a wise choice, when you finally sit down to write your paper an hour before it's due. I'd be a fool to expect any more of you slackers." He muttered the last bit under his breath, glaring at the half-asleep back row.

"Class is dismissed. Remember that this paper will determine whether some of you pass or not," He paused, as a crumpled wad of paper flew past him into the trash can. "And I look forward to seeing those individuals next semester." He ground out, before looking at a drooling Jackson with a hint of sorrowful resignation.

Ella slung her bag over her shoulder, kicking Jack in the shin as she stood. "Wake-y, wake-y, dumbass."

"Why do you hate me," Came the muffled reply.

"I'm actually writing an essay on that for my English final. I'll let you read it when I'm done. I'm thinking of titling it, "_Jack Grayson, Patron Deity of the Assholes"._ What do you think?"

"I'm thinking that I won't go on that exchange trip to Scotland with you next fall if you keep verbally abusing me. Isn't there some kind of battered friend shelter?" Jack yawned, levering himself out of his seat, and stretching.

"Quit being such a baby. I'd invite you to come peruse the library with me, but they have a poster with your face that says _no admittance_. I think goading those two philosophy students into fist-fighting each other was the last straw for the staff." Ella deadpanned. Really, the people she was friends with.

"It was for my sociology class! I got two people whose core values both included pacifism to beat the crap out of each other over a tree metaphor! It was fascinating, and educational! I got an A on that paper!" He exclaimed defensively as she pushed through the glass double-doors to the research center.

"Good-_bye_, Jack. Try to remember not to get into any strangers' vans while I'm gone, okay?" She disappeared into a labyrinth of bookcases, ignoring the indignant reply he half-shouted after her. She had books to find. Boring or not, she was going to get an _awesome_ grade on this Crusades paper if it _killed_ her.

Half an hour into browsing, and several texts from Jack later (no, dish soap is _not_ an acceptable toilet-cleaning agent unless you want to be cleaning suds off your ass for the next week or two), Ella was ready to call it quits.

She'd turned to leave the section, when a dusty cough caught her attention. A frail figure in a pale yellow cardigan was leaning against the end of the bookshelf, motioning her over. Or having a stroke. Ella wasn't a med student. She couldn't tell the difference between these things.

Okay, okay_, _she was _coming. Just stop flailing at her!_

"Interested in the Crusades, child?" The dude, Vincent, his nametag said, croaked in her general direction. Ella winced. She was not a child, she was twenty years old for chrissakes! She was not an a patronizable age anymore!

Instead of retorting with a remark about which graveyard he belonged to, she smiled. "Yeah, I haven't found much on the shelves, though."

Sometimes, if you feigned genuine interest, the librarians would dig up their personal favorites, or let you look at the ones they "technically aren't supposed to let students have". Suckers.

"Ah, I think I have something you might be interested in. Wait here a moment." He hobbled off to the back room, where they kept the _grown-up_ books- the ones they didn't want drooled on by students, like the plastic-coated, kidsafe copies of "_So You Want to Read Shakespeare"_.

Ella was about ready to leave, because honestly, it'd been _twentyminutes_, who takes that long to get a book off a shelf? The backroom was only an eight-by-eight closet. Ella should know (come to think of it, the things the librarians let her get away with was a little concerning).

Alas, just as she was turning to find the exit, cardigan guy emerged, dusting off a small, leather-bound book.

"I think I've found just what you're looking for. Here, take this." Wobbling slightly, he reached out to hand her the book. Ella quickly accepted it, a bit scared he would tip over.

"Thank you, sir. I'll try to have it back to you by Monday." She smiled, tucking it in her bag.

"Nonsense, it was in a donation box- not even part of the system yet. If you take a shining to it, no one will notice if it disappears," He winked, brushing his hands off on his slacks. "Take good care of it, and I'm sure it will be quite useful."

"Oh, well, thank you. I appreciate it." Ella had turned to leave, but stopped short when she heard him call out to her again.

"Do take care of it, dear. Old books can have quite a bit of life in them, if you give them the chance." He waved a bony hand at her. "Off with you, now."

Ella opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, before exiting the library, unsure of how to even respond, because _what?_

* * *

Ella flopped onto the bed in her dorm room, sighing contentedly as she flung her bag in the general vicinity of her desk, and buried her face in her pillow. Why do homework when she could lay around doing nothing? There was just no argument. A nap was definitely in order.

A soothing calm descended over her as she drifted off.

_She was unstoppable. A predator, soaring, unseen through the night. A ghost. The night was cool and dark, and the skies were clear. White billowed behind her as she dropped next to her target, unnoticed._

_The distant cry of an eagle masked the faint gurgle as her blade sank into the vulnerable throat of the man marked for death._

_She turned a single feather over in her palm, sticky with hot, fresh blood._

_A finger was a small price to pay, to cleanse the world. This rat would no longer poison the lives around him. They were freed._

_She disappeared as silently as she came, a flash of unblemished white disappearing into the sky._

Ella strained to open her eyes, surprised to find that the light streaming through the window was a muted orange. Was it already evening? Geez, she'd been out for a long time.

Groping around for her cell phone, she finally found it in the pocket of the hoodie hanging off of her bed post. _5:45 pm._

She groaned and stretched her arms above her head, joints popping in a way that was absolutely _heavenly _after sitting in a lecture day all day. Ella contemplated her options briefly. To go back to sleep, to screw around on the internet...to grab some coffee with a friend?

Her eyes found her bag next to the tiny desk, and, _oh yeah_, there was that old-ass book the librarian had given her. Curiosity set into her chest, and she padded over, seeking out the dusty, crumbling leather cover of the book. The pages stuck when she went to open it, and Ella gritted her teeth and pried the covers apart, trying not to damage the pages.

The stick released satisfyingly, and she brushed her fingers over the cover, noticing for the first time the odd symbol on the cover, almost shaped like a teardrop. Somehow, it almost looked...familiar. She felt a heavy sense of recognition, but had no idea why.

"I am absolutely positive I have never seen you before," She glared at the symbol. "Stop messing with my head."

Ella shook her head, feeling kind of...fuzzy. Maybe she needed to pilfer some adderall off Jack. Illegal, yes. But very, very helpful.

She sent Jack a quick request for some more of the precious drug. She wasn't going to be able to write her paper like this. Confusion vibrated in the back of her skull.

_Where am I? What am I doing? What _is _this thing?_

Which was ridiculous. She was in her dorm room and Washington State, procrastinating her homework. It was her fourth year living in this hole, it was hardly unfamiliar.

Still, the feeling persisted, as if trying to take on a life of its own.

"I definitely need some adderall." Ella muttered, flipping through the pages of the book- and, what the hell. This book was about _assassins_. How was this relevant to the Crusades? She just needed a nice, vague overview of the time period. Just enough to BS a few pages, and site print source. That always added a couple points.

_Why does this book exist? It will compromise the brotherhood._

Ella blinked.

"What?"

_The brotherhood. Will be compromised. I need to destroy it._

Destroying books was a no-no. Especially old-as-dirt books that creepy old librarians gave to you from the super-secret backroom.

_I must interrogate this...librarian._

Seriously, what the hell? There would be no interrogating, and the thoughts of pressing a blade to the poor dude's throat and threatening him with death were disturbing and unacceptable. Ella ordered her brain to stop.

_Why do I not remember obtaining this book? Why can I not control my body?_

Ella sighed, and tossed the book on her pillow. Of all the things that could go wrong during midterms, schizophrenia was one of the worst possible things. She did _not_ need an extra voice upstairs, arguing with her about test answers. She ran her fingers through her hair. She hadn't bothered putting it up today, it just wasn't worth the effort. Instead, the blonde waves hung over her shoulders, stopping just below her breasts.

_Long hair? Breasts? I've gone mad, I do not have a _woman's _body._

Disgust ebbed at her brain, and she scowled. Was it just her, or was that a hint of _sexism_?

"Look, _buddy_," Ella snarked. "I am a woman, and this is _my_ brain and _my_ body, and if you've got a problem with that, you can kindly fuck off. I don't have time for sexist hallucinations. I've got tests to not study for."

In an act of defiance, Ella reached down, and cupped her breasts, squeezing a bit. Why not? they were hers, and they were _awesome,_ if she did say so herself. Shock and horror was the faint response.

"Um, Ella?" Ella's head whipped around. She hadn't noticed the door open."What are you doing?" Her roommate, Amy, stood in the doorway, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, just, uh, feeling myself up. Boobs are great, you know?" A faint blush crept its way into her face. She cleared her throat. "So, how was the self-defense seminar?"

"You know what, I'm not even surprised," Amy murmured under her breath. "The seminar was pretty useless. The lady hosting it had no idea what she was talking about. Couldn't even explain how to get out of a half-nelson when I asked her.

"She just kept telling us to scream and bite, and carry pepper spray with us. Not to go out alone. That kind of thing."

_Pepper spray? What is pepper spray? Where_ am_ I?_

_Shut up_, Ella thought. _I'm having a conversation, here._

"That's kind of...kind of pathetic, actually. How is she qualified to teach that thing?" Ella snorted.

"She's not. Budget cuts, you know? 'Cause it's not like they're _swimming in all the cash they make off of us_ or anything." Amy huffed in response, falling backwards onto her bed on the other side of the room.

"Ah, but if they used our tuition money to benefit the school, they'd have nothing to fund their "business trips" to europe."

"Fucking upper class pricks," Amy spat. She was particularly bitter about the distribution of wealth in the nation, working two jobs and drowning in student loans.

Ella wasn't much better off, herself.

_Where is your husband? Am I in a harem?_

Ella choked, sputtering to collect herself. _What the fuck do you mean, _husband? _I'm only twenty, for chrissakes! You know what, no. This is ridiculous. Get out of my head, you archaic ass._

_Know your place, woman! _The voice snapped, irritation burning in his words.

...Wait, _his?_ Since when did the voice have a gender? But...no, it was definitely a masculine voice. As if it was developing strength and personality the longer it stayed.

_Oh my god, it's like you're a caveman! News flash, there's this little thing we call gender equality!_

_I care not for your whims, woman! Be silent._

_You're the one in _my _head, buddy. If you don't like it, then get the _fuck _out!_

_You dare disrespect-_

A hand waved in front of Ella's face, and she snapped to attention

"You okay, there?" Amy said, sounding a bit concerned. Her brow crinkled slightly as Ella shook her head, trying to clearing her mind.

"Yeah, sorry. It's just been a long day, you know?" She chuckled, scrubbing her hands over her face. Amy nodded sympathetically.

"Get some sleep. You look like hell."

_How does one "look like hell"?_

"Thanks," Ella replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Just being honest, hon. Maybe you should hit a party tonight to take the edge off the stress- cut loose, make out with a stranger, get hammered. It's Friday- what could it hurt?"

_You plan to whore yourself out to strangers? That is not surprisingly, you are hardly a virtuous woman._

_Shut up, no one asked you._

_Such things will not happen under my supervision. Until I regain my body from whatever has happened, you will obey me._

_No one asked for your opinion! Butt out, already.  
_

"Yeah, I definitely need to immerse myself in _normal college things_. I feel like I have this archaic old man in my head, trying to dictate my life."

Amy nodded sympathetically.

"Honey, I am taking you to a party. Whatever your history prof is pulling that's got you so wound up, we are fixing with alcohol. A few beers and a frat boy or two later, and the old man-voice will be heading for the hills." Amy turned turned to dig through the the tiny closet on her half of the room. "Come on, get dressed."

Ella complied, bouncing up from her bed and rooting through her own hole-in-the-wall closet with newfound vigor.

* * *

_Even _whores _wear more clothing than you._ The voice spat with disapproval.

Well, the voice could _suck it_. Ella felt _awesome._ She was wearing black skinny jeans, a pair of knee-high leather boots, and a lowcut, light green tanktop. Amy had insisted she put on some makeup other than a bit of eyeliner and blush, and layers of eyeshadow and foundation stared back at her from the dorm crappy mirror, adding startling dimension to her eyes and face.

She'd even tamed her hair into loose, shapely curls that framed her face and gracefully fell down her back.

Amy had changed into pair of jeggings and a high-cut leather jacket, furthering her aura of badassery. She'd done her make-up to a smokey-eyed perfection, and mussed her chocolate curls to appear slightly windblown.

"We are goddesses," Amy said, turning to her. "Now let's go pound some Jaeger bombs."

The party was loud and crowded, and Ella couldn't help but grin to herself as the bass thrummed in her chest, drowning out any of her thoughts. Or anyone else's. A boy materialized behind her, his hands finding her waist as he leaned over her shoulder.

"Having a good time?"

_He holds ill-intention towards you. _The voice warned. She ignored it, pointedly.

"What?"

"Do you want to dance?" He shouted over the music.

"_No, thanks!"_ She mouthed back, edging away to find Amy, who had conveniently disappeared.

His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her back to him

"Come on, don't be a prude! I just wanna dance." He rubbed his hips against her, and she snarled, prying his hands off her waist.

"I said no, get off of me." He grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her back.

"Is it so bad just to dance with me?"

_You need get escape this situation._

_You think I don't know that?!_

"Get off of me, you're drunk!"

"So what if I am?" His hands slid to her hips, continuing to push them lower.

_Break his grip, then aim for his kidney. _Ella struggled against him fruitlessly, ignoring the voice.

"Relax, baby." He murmured in her ear.

_If you won't listen..._ The sentence trailed off ominously, but Ella ignored it, floundering.

Suddenly, her arm bent and shot backwards, nailing him low in the gut. When he stumbled back, her body turned to face him, her hand shooting out to wrap around his throat in an unforgiving, solid grip, not squeezing enough to choke, but enough to scare.

"C-...crazy bitch," he sputtered, pushing at her arm. She fought to unclench her hand and retract her limb. Several spectators made noises of concern, eyes flitting between the Ella and the boy, unsure of who was the "bad guy".

Amy appeared in front of her, reaching out to her, grasping her shoulders and drawing her close.

"Ella, are you okay? Talk to me, what happened?" She pulled Ella back, searching her face for signs of trauma.

_You need to learn to defend yourself._

"I...I don't know. He wouldn't let go. I don't know. I don't know..." Ella's hands shook, and Amy made a noise of concern, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her away from the scene.

"It's okay, he was just drunk asshole. Want me to bring you home?"

_Say yes._ The voice bit out.

"No, I'm fine," Ella looked up to meet Amy's eyes. "I just wasn't expecting that." Amy frowned, but nodded her consent.

"Okay. If he tries something again, give 'im hell." She smirked, before releasing Ella's shoulders and turning away. "I'm gonna go dominate at beer pong."

_You are a fool._

_Who do you think you are? _She challenged angrily.

_I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Master Assassin._

_Yeah? Well I'm Ella Nordin, Grad Student. Get out of my head._

_Read the book._

_Excuse me?_

_The book with the symbol of the assassins. Read it. The information inside may be valuable to this situation._

_That decaying piece of crap the librarian gave me?_

_Yes._

Ella pondered this for a moment. This asshole did show up in her head after she'd opened the damned thing. Maybe he was right.

_Fine. Maybe I can get rid of you._

_The dissent is mutual._

* * *

So, um. I'm not _entirely_ sure what I'm going to do with this story, but I think I have a basic plot down. I guess I'm just gonna run with it and see what happens. Let me know what you think!

I hope the Altaïr/Ella conversations aren't confusing. I think their personalities are different enough to discern who's speaking, but if not, let me know and I'll edit the chapter to clear things up.


	2. Caffeine

**/Waves sheepishly**

**Uh, sorry I haven't updated in a while. Thanks for being patient with me. My inspiration to write isn't very fluid, it kind of comes in bursts. I promise another chapter will be up by Wednesday, thought, I've got it half-written already. I just didn't want to keep you guys waiting. Chapter three is when things will really start to pick up!**

* * *

Altaïr was an _dick._

Ella scowled at the wall, pulling the pillow back over her head. It was the crack of dawn on a _Saturday_. She was going back to sleep, dammit.

"Read the book," she mocked his commanding tone, her voice thick with sleep. "Well, tough shit, dude. I'm going back to bed. The book can wait."

Amy groaned in her sleep across the room.

_Don't be insolent. _He snapped from the back of her head. She winced at his tone.

_Your face is insolent. _She was mature. No, really. Just not in the mornings.

_You have never seen my face._

_Shut up. Go away. 'M tired._

Still, she was roused from her peaceful sleep by the ever-growing annoyance building in the back of her head, which she assumed was from Altaïr. Bastard.

"Fine. Have it your way, you prick." Ella muttered angrily, groping around on the floor until she found the rough, worn leather of the book.

_Once upon a time, in a poor, grad student's head, lived a voice named Altaïr. Altaïr Was annoying as fuck-_

_Do not test me._

_You test me on a _daily basis_. It's karma, you asshat._

Ella tossed the book off to the side, currently apathetic to its wellbeing. It was _morning_.

_I care not for you ridiculous words. Read the damn book, woman._

_You know what? No, no I don't think I will. As much as I'd love to get rid of you, this is still my life, dude. This is one of the few days I _don't _have class right away in the morning, so suck it up, because I'm going back to sleep._

_Ella_.

Well, that was new. Her friendly new brain-tennant had never used her actual name before- just called her "woman", or any derogatory variation thereof.

_No, shut up. I'm ignoring you._

_If you do not cooperate, I will be forced to take action myself._

Ella nuzzled her pillow, sighing happily. It was Saturday- she could sleep in, grab some coffee from the student center later on, maybe have a beer with some friends and relax for a while before her shift started at the bar.

While she absentmindedly pondered how the self-proclaimed _master assassin_ would react to tucking dollar bills in bra, or having her cleavage ogled by drunk guys while she served up beer and mixed fruity cocktails.

_Heh. Cocktail._

She was jolted out of her thoughts when her fist clenched of its own accord, before relaxing and inching towards the edge of her bed.

Ella sat up sharply, pulling the possessed limb to her chest to glare at.

"No," she told it firmly.

_You are being particularly difficult this morning._

_Right, 'cause it's such a crime to want to be in control of my own freakin' body._

_If I am trapped inside of you, and if you refuse to cooperate, I must use you vicariously._

_Shove it, grandpa. I'm not here for your convenience._

Ella blew a frustrated raspberry. There was no way she was getting back to sleep now, especially not that the occupants of the neighboring rooms were waking up, already starting their daily rituals with dubstep, or call of duty, or banging their head against the wall- whatever that incessant _thumping_ noise was, next door.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and stretching her back, before straightening and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Amy was dead to the world, an arm hanging from her lofted bed, dangling from her spread-eagled form.

Ella, being the _awesome_ roommate she was, practiced a lesson in stealth, silently padding over to her closet and pulling out a pair of jeans and pausing at her selection of shirts to check the weather for the day on her phone.

Cold, cold, and more cold.

Ella huffed an errant blonde strand hanging over her forehead, tickling her nose, and fished a couple of layering shirts, a cardigan, and a scarf out from the depths. So, maybe she dressed a bit like a hipster sometimes. Cardigans were _awesome_. Everyone could just take off their judgemental hats and go back to basking in their imagined superiority- stereotypes were ridiculous, cliched tropes, and she wouldn't let them keep her from her layers and cardigans and scarves.

Also it was cold as balls here, so her critics could shiver bitterly in their mal-heated dorms and be miserable.

And she had a _shining_ personality, if she didn't say so herself, she thought, pulling a blue tanktop over her shirt, before donning a creamy cardigan and pushing up its sleeves to expose the long-sleeves shirt underneath.

_You are the only one with such a delusion,_ Altaïr commented helpfully.

Ella sniffed indignantly and loosely wound an attractively patterned scarf around her neck. She tucked her unruly waves into a low, lazy bun, and secured the knot with a pencil (being a broke-ass college student, she made do with what she had).

_Gosh, you are just a ray of sunshine, aren't you? I'm really feeling the positive energy. What's your secret? It can't be yoga- if your rigid, winning personality is anything to go by, you are anything but flexible._

_I do now know of "yoga", but I am quite agile and fit. My profession demands it of me._

_You need help._

_Yes. _Your _help, you stubborn heathen._

_What are you, from the prohibitionist era?_

_I have no knowledge of this prohibitionism. I hail from the time of the crusades, which we are obviously no longer in._

_Holy balls, you're fucking _biblical_. Oh my god. There's a _dead guy _in my head. That is so many kinds of not okay. I don't even know where to start._

_The book would be a decent place, _Altaïr snapped.

"It's Saturday. I don't touch anything that has to do with school with a ten foot pole on Saturdays," she informed him belligerently. "I'm getting coffee, and you're going to deal with it like a grown-ass adult."

* * *

Evidently, Altaïr was not patient. While he wasn't talkative in his anger, Ella could feel it coming off of him in _waves_ of rage as she detoured to the cafeteria to pick up a quick breakfast, before heading to the student center for coffee.

She strolled the campus, relishing in the crisp autumn air, trying to get her zen to bleed through to her grumpy, parasitic resident.

_I get why you're being pissy about this, but cut me some slack, dude. You're a voice in my head, which I am ninety-five percent certain is a lingering delusion caused by the stress of finals, or some kind of unresolved emotional trauma from my childhood, or something. I have a life, which I do not plan on abandoning at the drop of a hat for a grumpy hallucination._

_I have proven myself capable of influencing your movements, yet you still question my existence?_

_Yeah, well. You're a disembodied voice that only I can hear. That doesn't really inspire confidence in your story, you know?_

_Yet, you agreed to continue reading the book. Which you have not done, _he added angrily.

_I never said I'd do it right this second, oh my god. But yeah- I will. I _have _to for a fucking paper, okay? Maybe that'll give my disturbed psyche some kind of closure._

Anger burned in the back of her skull as she strode past a row of sorority houses, and suddenly her hand released its grip on the paper coffee cup, sending it plummeting to the concrete.

She yelped in shock, jumping back from the splash of the steaming liquid, cursing.

"What the _hell_? You made me drop my coffee!"

_You cannot disprove my control over your body. I am not a delusion in your unstable mind._

Ella clenched her fists, gritting her teeth as she searched for her rationale.

Ah, there it was.

It was so _obvious-_

_Jack_.

Jack, her dear friend Jack, a psychology major- a _good_ psychology major. He was a natural at dissecting people, at understanding neurological quirks and piecing together symptoms.

He could _definitely_ prove this whole voice and limb-possession deal in a way that made sense. And also proved she wasn't crazy, or harboring a crazed assassin from the fucking _crusades_.

"So help me, I will get rid of you one way or another." she swore vehemently, glaring viciously at the spilled beverage. No more precious caffeine would fall casualty to the presence of a stupid _voice_.

* * *

**Feel free to review and tell me what you think! I always welcome reader input.**


	3. Templars

**So many apologies. So, ****_so_**** many. But I know none of them will cut it- I really screwed up that deadline. I am truly sorry, though. School is a lot busier than I thought it'd be- excuses, excuses, I know- but really, I am trying to make more time for writing. I'm excited about some future chapters I'm roughing out, and I've finally figured out a chunk of storyline that had been missing. Anyway, without further apologetic rambling, I give you a chapter that was far shorter than I was hopping it'd be. Happy reading!**

* * *

"You gonna explain what this emergency is, or what?" Jack rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, shifting on his mattress as he slouched against the wall.

Altaïr expressed his extreme disapproval of her seeing him in nothing but a pair of ratty sweatpants- _he is neither your father, nor your husband- _also, the word "harlot" may have made an appearance. But Ella was getting better at tuning him out.

Ella extended a newly purchased cup of coffee as a peace offering. "I need your expertise,"

"That is not helpful," he grumbled, taking a tentative sip. He hummed in approval, and Ella preened.

She'd dumped so many packets of sugar in it, it had passed its saturation point. It was more of a grainy _sludge_. But hey, the guy liked sugar, so let him have his sugar.

Diabetes was not far on his horizon, anyway. She'd at least let the guy go out with a bang.

"Well, I was kind of hoping it'd disappear by this morning- that I'd, like, sleep it off or something. Or maybe that it was a weird dream."

_But I am not a delusion, and you will not be rid of me with sleep._

Jack made a noncommittal sound as he nursed his beverage.

"Anyway, I've got this really sexist, annoying voice in my head claiming to be an assassin from the crusades in the twelfth century, and I can't get it to shut up." Ella summarized, waving her hands absently as she leaned back in the desk chair she'd pulled up to sit across with her friend.

Jack stared at her mid-sup, frozen.

"I thought we agreed there'd be no elaborate sarcasm in the mornings." he groaned weakly.

"I'm, uh. Not kidding. Or being sarcastic. I think it's a stress thing?" she tried, hopeful.

Her companion let his head fall back against the wall with a resolute _thunk_.

"Okay," he started, yawning. "Schizophrenia most commonly occurs in women twenty to twenty-five years old."

_I won't deny that you may be mentally deficient in some way._

"I'm not- !" Ella began to protest, but Jack held his hand up patiently.

"Let me finish." he shifted, crossing his ankles. "You might be in the age group, but it's rare it suddenly start experiencing delusions without noticeable symptoms early on. You haven't withdrawn from social relationships, or experienced any of the other tell-tale signs, so I don't think it's something we need to worry about."

"There's something else…" Ella added.

Jack frowned. "There's more?"

"Yeah, uh. He controls my movements sometimes. Also he tried to make me strange a frat boy." she paused. "I had my hand on his throat and everything,"

_I was helping you._

Jack eyed her disbelievingly for a second, before pulling a small flask from under his pillow.

"I'm just gonna blame that on displaced aggression. " He muttered, dumping its contents into his coffee and taking a long drink before speaking again. "And don't talk to it, either."

Ella shifted uncomfortably.

"...You've been talking to it, haven't you?"

"I may, uh, argue with it sometimes," she mumbled.

_Sometimes? Ha._

_You don't get to voice your opinions- you're not even a legal immigrant!_

"Don't do that," Jack quickly advised. "Your best bet is to ignore it and seek professional help if your symptoms continue after the stressor- which I'm assuming is the history paper- has passed."

"So, don't talk to the voice." Ella repeated.

"Don't talk to the voice," he confirmed. "Oh, and, it's important to remember this, Ella," he sat up, resting an elbow on his knees and reaching up to scratch at the back of his head lazily. "It's not _real."_

"Well, it's good to know that I might be crazy," she stood, adjusting her scarf. she forgot the way this one _itched_. "Sorry for waking you up and stuff."

"Yeah. The sooner you get the stupid paper done, the better off you'll be." he stood, pulling back the rumpled blankets on his bed.

"Later, Jack."

He saluted her with his coffee cup, climbing back into bed.

* * *

Sunday was such a buzzkill, Ella lamented as she spun lazily in her desk chair, a pencil pinched between her teeth.

Her laptop glowed from the desk's surface, half-buried beneath a messy array of notes and textbooks.

She'd gotten all of her pressing assignments done. Well, all but one.

One that she was seriously dreading, for many reasons, but quickly running out of ways to put it off. It had to get done, one way or another.

With a resigned sigh, she picked up the crumbling, leather-bound book.

A deep sense of satisfaction, tinged with exasperation, pulled at the back of her mind, courtesy of Altaïr.

Ella rolled her eyes and flipped to the first page, settling in for a nice, dry read.

"That librarian was full of shit, this isn't even remotely helpful." she muttered resentfully, mourning the time wasted. Altaïr was agitated as well- though, that was probably because his super secret club wasn't so secret anymore. After all, the _first page_ of the book was rambling about "the creed", one of which had been not compromising the "brotherhood". Patronizing air quotes definitely intended.

Wait, what was she thinking? There was no _club_. Sure, maybe at some point in history there could have been assassins in Masyaf, or Firen-where-Italy, she wasn't a history guru so she didn't know the facts, but the voice in her head sure as hell wasn't some kind of medieval version of the Terminator.

….Though he did have the robot part down.

Lazily, she dropped a random citation into her paper, even though it wasn't remotely helpful, and tossed the book aside, in favor of clacking her afternoon away into a Word document.

_That is an incorrect detail._

Ella blew an ever-errant strand of hair off her nose, pointedly ignoring him.

_The Templars'' goal was to destroy the-_

"If you say 'brotherhood' one more time, I'm gonna play _Thrift Shop_ until you dissolve into a pile of gurgling foam."

_Your paper is inaccurate. I am recounting the truth._

"Dude! The history books may be a little white-washed and edited by political leaders with personal agendas, but seriously." Ella threw her hands up. "I can't cite my sources as _the voice in my head_, so my version stays!"

Upon reaching the minimum required number of pages (after subtly altering the front and margins to achieve such), Ella leaned back in her chair, stretching, and punching the _print_ button victoriously.

As she stretched, her eyes drifted back to the ancient tome on her desk- or, more specifically, a dog-eared page she hadn't noticed before.

Ella casually flipped to the page, skimming the contents. It wasn't likely anything important had been marked, because hey, life was a bitch! But on the off-chance she'd get lucky (but not in the fun way, she pouted), she looked it over anyway.

Assassins, assassins, and more _freaking_ assassins. It was like a textbook, for crying out loud. The assassins did this, and the templars were responsible for that, and hey, let's just kill thousands of people over the course of history while we're at it.

Because of a glowing apple-thing.

Sounds awesome.

Their whole gang-war thing was all fine and good, but really, was there nothing that could help her get the stupid voice out of her head?

* * *

The library was a graveyard. Most of the people there were dead, sobbing, or old and decaying.

Ella's target fell into the latter category.

In fact, it was completely possible that the zombie apocalypse had already started, and the walking corpses were just thought to be elderly people.

She approached the checkout counter, scanning the back for the librarian she wanted to passive-aggressively return the book to. Two men dressed in very out-of-place business suits swept in front of her, cutting her off.

"_Excuse_ me," Ella huffed indignantly. One man waved his hand in her direction, brushing her off, while the other rang the bell sitting on the counter insistently.

"Don't be an obnoxious asshole," she snapped. "Are you even affiliated with this college? I could sue you for wasting student resources." Whether or not she actually _could_ sue was both unknown and irrelevant- for one, she didn't know any law students who could tell her. But mostly, she just couldn't afford a lawyer to begin with.

The frail figure of Vincent, the most unhelpful and infirmed librarian ever, emerged from the back as the two men glared at her viciously.

"Yes, yes, I hear the bell, you can't stop ringing it," Vincent snatched the offending object off of the counter with bony fingers. "What can I help you with, gentlemen?"

"We are looking for a book," Suit Number One started.

"Well, congratulations! We're in a library. All you have to do is pick one!" Ella scoffed, waving exaggeratedly at the shelves.

"A _specific_ book," he continued, shooting her a dirty look. "This book." he slid a sheet of paper across the counter like some kind of very deranged and very lost drug dealer.

"It is very valuable, and very old."

Ella craned her neck, suddenly curious, and, hey, that was _her _book! Well, the book she had been forcibly given. Either way, they weren't getting it from _her_. That's what happened to rude people.

...Unless there was money involved. But it'd have to be a _lot_ of money.

_You will not let that book out of my sight._

_Can it, grumpy._

_This book cannot fall into the wrong hands, Ella!_

Vincent pushed a smeary pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose, and squinted at the shoddy black and white image.

"If you think the library has something like this, you're looking in the wrong department. Try archaeology."

"We're willing to compensate you for your..._troubles_," the man continued. "we only want to see it safe."

"I'm sure you're very dedicated individuals. But that doesn't change what is and isn't on these shelves." Vincent told the expectant men.

As the men turned to leave, a sharp pain erupted in Ella's temple, and she nearly dropped her bag as she hissed in pain. A strange pressure built up behind her eyes, almost unbearably, until her ears popped painfully, and spots exploded across her vision.

When she looked up, the room was shrouded in soft, almost ethereal lighting, and the individuals around her emanated different colors. The students snoring softly in chairs and working on computers were all a bright, monotonous white that blended into itself, while the two assholes-in-suits were a burst of violent red.

Ella blinked rapidly, massaging her temples, as the lights receded and the room returned to normal.

_What the _hell _was that?_

_Templars._

* * *

**There wasn't as much of ****Altaïr** **in this chapter. Also it's a little short. I'm sorry. The next chapter will be a super long, super meaty apology chapter. It'll be the equivalent of me grilling you an apology steak. I am definitely not making any promises of when it'll be up- I learned my lesson! But I ****_can_**** promise you it'll be nice and lengthy.**

**As always, reviews are very much welcome! Let me know what you think, what you want, what you don't want...if I'm doing something right/wrong, etc. There is also potential for this to turn into a character/OC story, I have a character or two in mind that will be involved heavily in the plot, but it mostly depends on what you guys think and want! After all, this is for you, so don't be shy to voice your thoughts! uvu**


	4. Burning

**[Wipes sweat from brow] As promised, a long****er chapter. I hope it's long enough. I couldn't pack anymore plot into this chapter for the sake of the overall story length, and some plot happenings I'll need feedback to decide on.  
**

* * *

Ella read the book. She read it cover to cover, and, per demand of Altaïr, scrutinized the page that had been folded and marked.

"There's nothing here," she protested. "it's just a bunch of crap about Mas...Masya-...Masfa- "

_Masyaf_.

"Yeah, that. It lists some other countries, too, but I can't think of anything they have in common." Ella pouted in frustration.

Altaïr remained silent, focusing. Ella lifted her chin from her hand, an idea perking her.

"Hey, try using your superpower!" She chirped.

_I do not know what you are saying._

"The vision thing," Ella rolled her eyes, referring to the incident in the library, and the subsequent migraine it had caused. What had he called it?

_Eagle vision._

"Yes, that."

_It would be of no use for this._

"But you said it shows you- "

-_Targets, enemies, and allies,_ he cut her off. _Nothing more_.

"Well, it's better than nothing!" she argued. "You're the one who thought this page was so important."

Altaïr seethed stubbornly for a few minutes, as Ella fruitlessly paged through the book, brushing her fingers over the worn text, as if she could absorb its secrets through touch.

Without warning, her ears popped, and the pages of the book were bathed in the soft glow of Altaïr's eagle vision. Faint gold traced a few words here and there- Ella couldn't really read them, it was hard to focus on anything when Altaïr took over. The world became a dim, muted image, as if she were watching it from behind fogged glass.

Being pushed out of her own head scared her more than anything, and she anxiously waited for him to relinquish control back to her.

...but, what if he didn't?

A burst of panic flashed through her being.

"You need to calm down," Altaïr spoke in her own voice. "I cannot focus with you panicking."

_Give me my body back!_

"As soon as I am finished," he promised.

Minutes passed, and Ella's head began to ache. She felt like she was listening to a radio station that went in and out of static. True to his word, Altaïr reluctantly faded to the back of her mind as soon as he was done studying the page, and when Ella felt the sharp alertness of her senses at full capacity, she noticed he'd circled and underlined things with her pencil.

How had she not noticed that?

"Is that what it's like for you, all the time?" she murmured hesitantly.

_I've found a connection between the locations_. Altaïr brushed off her question.

"What's that?" she let it go, that he had ignored her. She knew the answer, anyway.

_I believe they are where pieces of Eden are located._

"Pieces of _what?_"

* * *

Altaïr was an assassin- Ella had known that, but it never truly registered that he was, well...an _assassin_.

It was crucial to keep the pieces of Eden out of the hands of the templars, he'd said. He was an assassin, and it was his duty. He- and, by reluctant association, Ella- needed to take action immediately.

Ella sat in the library, studying. Or, rather, trying to. Altaïr was brooding, and it was really throwing off her vibe.

Physics were a distant concern, even though finals were coming up fast- and while Altaïr was having his fit, the true distraction was situated behind the front desk, sorting through books.

The book-thieving elderly man wavered as he lifted each tome off the cart, occasionally scribbling something down on a clipboard.

Ella couldn't help it. She snapped her book closed, and waded through hoards of students scattered around the library until she'd reached the desk.

"Hi," she leaned her elbows onto the desktop. "I have a question."

_What are you doing_?

"Of course," he bobbed his head agreeably.

"You gave me a book- a really _old_ book- do you know anything about it?"

_I think this guy is pretty heavily involved. He might have information._

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, young lady." he squinted through his glasses, frowning. "Is this a book you've checked out?"

"No! You _gave_ it to me- from the donation box. Well, you more _forced_ me to take it, and I was distracted because I thought you were having a seizure or something, but- "

"You must be mistaken," he rasped, shaking his head. "We don't have a donation box."

"Okay, sure, fine. No donation box. But you gave me the book- you've got to remember that! It was less than a _week_ ago!" Ella burst out impatiently.

Vincent hummed for a moment, rubbing his chin.

"About the crusades," she prompted through gritted teeth.

"Ahh, I remember the book. A valuable one, too."

"Yeah, I know. Got anything specific to tell me? Like why you gave me a useless book about _assassins?_"

"The book is far from useless," the librarian sighed, shaking his head. "We all have our responsibilities, child. Protecting history appears to be yours." he added cryptically, nodding sagely as if he'd said something very profound.

"Um, what?" Ella eloquently replied.

_He knows far more than he is letting on. Pursue answers._

_What does it _look _like I'm doing?_

"How is history my problem?"

"You are to protect the life it holds. History is a fragile thing." With that, he turned them away, disappearing into the back room.

"What are you even- hey, get back here!" Ella protested.

Altaïr was quiet, and she could only assume he was pondering the words the old man had offered.

She cracked open her physics book once more, irritated. The electronic buzz of her phone hummed against her thigh, and exasperatedly, she dug it out of her pocket- and promptly swore when she saw the time.

_Shit, I'm missing class!_

* * *

_We cannot waste anymore time on your tedious studies_, Altaïr snapped as Ella calmly filled in a bubble on her scantron sheet.

It was finals week, and so help her god, she was going to finish these tests. Altaïr could learn to suck it up.

_This is completely pointless_.

Ella flipped the page of her test.

_If you will not cooperate…_ he warned, his threat clear.

She prepared herself for the imminent jerk of her hand- relaxing her muscles and letting her pencil drop gently as he abortively jerked her hand like the martyr he was. She was getting better at weathering him, at staying in control.

_We'll talk about your treasure hunt later. I _have _to finish these tests. It's just a few more days. Do you think you can manage that?_

Anger seeped from the disgruntled assassin's presence, and thirty minutes later, Ella turned in her test.

The rest of the week went on like that. Altaïr would get frustrated, and Ella would wait him out. Towards the tail end of the wait, he would stay silent, anger glowing like a hot coal balanced on her occipital lobe.

_I hate this just as much as you do._

He remained voiceless, ignoring her.

_You're really not used to sitting still for long, are you?_

_I am an assassin. There is work to be done, and every minute you sit, the templars grow stronger. There is no time for your wayward scholarly pursuits_.

"Ella?" a familiar voice snapped Ella out of the argument. Her head shot up. Jack stood a few feet away, his brow wrinkled with concern. "God, I thought you'd died or something. I haven't seen you for _days_." he added, waving his hands exaggeratedly.

In spite of herself, Ella smiled. Altaïr didn't make for very good company. She missed this- talking to people she liked. People who didn't snap at her every minute; people who were pleasant to be around.

"Yeah, well, finals are a bitch. I've been lurking around wherever there's caffeine." she ran a hand through her hair tiredly.

"Yeah, yeah." he nodded. "Can't drink enough coffee lately. Haven't been sleeping much- neurobiology test coming up, you know? Anyway, how's the voice?"

"The voice?" Ella repeated dumbly.

"The crusades guy, or whatever?" Jack raised an eyebrow skeptically.

_Don't compromise the situa-_

"Oh, right. Yeah, that went away a little while after I turned the paper in- you were right." Ella waved it off, though the guilt for lying to her best friend was crushing, settling deep in her chest.

_Do you think I'm stupid?_

"You got time to hang out this weekend?" Jack offered.

Ella grimaced. Altaïr would literally kill her if she didn't drive him out to god-knows-where to find his piece-of-whatever.

"My parents wanted me to visit…" she trailed off, and the disappointment in her voice was genuine.

_The sooner I get you out of my head the better._

_I should be gone after fulfilling my duties to the brotherhood._ Altaïr answered reproachfully.

Jack nodded at her words understandingly.

"My parents would probably appreciate a visit, too." he agreed. "Next weekend?"

"Definitely," Ella confirmed, smiling for the first time since Altaïr and finals had taken over her life.

She turned to go, waving at Jack. Another student bumped into her shoulder, and her bag flew from her shoulder, scattering her things on the ground. She swore, and Jack knelt down to help her collect her things from the cold sidewalk.

"Sorry," the student shot briefly over his shoulder.

"Like hell you are," Ella glared at his retreating form, scraping her books into a pile.

"Hey, what's this?" she turned her head back to her friend, who was turning the leathery bane of her existence over in his hands.

"Oh, I was just using that to help me write my paper." Ella murmured, her eyes catching a dark, suit-clad figure standing at the edge of a nearby building, watching them.

_Don't say a word-_

"Looks expensive." Jack commented.

Ella shrugged, and he handed it back to her. She quickly tucked it in the cover of her bag, her gaze flicking back to the figure.

* * *

"I can't believe _Abstergo_ is here. Visiting _our_ college." Jack buzzed in the student center, over a pile of notebooks. "I mean, they're a _pharmaceutical_ company. Don't get me wrong, this is really cool, but _why_?"

"I have no idea," Ella flipped to a clean sheet of paper, tapping her pencil nervously. They'd been everywhere, lately- the men in the suits. Always lurking ominously in the background, waiting, like a psycho killer from a horror flick.

"They kind of remind me of Slenderman," she commented offhandedly.

"Huh?" A pen dropped from between Jack's teeth. Ella motioned vaguely towards the nearest figure. "Oh. The Abstergo guys. Yeah, I can see the resemblance."

"I'm going to refill my coffee." Ella stood, scraping her chair back to amble into the café. As she wove her way through groups of students, a rack of glossy brochures caught her eye, and she found herself standing in front of the International Exchange Center.

A neon piece of paper was stapled to the worn bulletin board above the pamphlets.

_Syria Trip,_ it declared. _Last chance spaces: apply now_.

Beneath the heading, a series of blank lines, completely void of names, stared back at her.

Ella swallowed hard, before plucking the string-attached pen from where it dangled below the board, and scribbling her contact info.

_My very own death sentence_, she thought wryly.

_Don't be dramatic._ Altaïr snapped.

* * *

"I don't understand," the counselor's brow furrowed from behind her desk. "You're majoring in business."

"Uh-huh," Ella hummed.

"But you want to go on the _Syria_ trip?"

"It's never too late to try new things," Ella chirped, flashing the woman a smile.

"You don't meet any of the academic qualifications."

"Well, I know, but- "

"If you're serious about going, talk to the professor hosting the trip. If you can get his approval, I'll make an exception since it's over a school break." she sighed benevolently.

Ella jumped up from her chair. "Yes! I will do that. I'll do that now."

* * *

She was on a plane. Going to Syria. Dear _god_, she was on a plane going to Syria.

The combination of a desperate professor and pure, unadulterated luck had landed her on a plane to Syria, because _the voice in her head had told her to go._

Ella's knuckles were white as the plane took off down the runway.

Altaïr wasn't helpful to her panic.

It'd never occurred to her to cover the details of air travel. She'd been busy pleading with the professor, with calling her parents, with finishing the semester.

With filling out liability forms she was afraid to look too carefully at.

And trying to explain the finer points of flying to Altaïr while actually _in_ the plane was the hardest thing she'd ever had the misfortune of attempting.

_You're making my hands cramp_, she whined.

_Forgive me if I am not completely calm,_ he growled back sarcastically.

_Just try to watch the movie_.

_There are talking fish. I do not understand._

_They're fish! They talk! There's not a lot to be confused about!_

_This is absolutely ridiculous._

_Shhh, Nemo is about to touch the butt._

_He is going to do _what?!

* * *

Oh, god. Everything was in a different language, and people were shouting at her, and it was so freaking _crowded_!

She and the other students were promptly herded onto a bus as soon as they'd stumbled off the plane, half asleep, but Ella had been jolted awake faster than any energy drink had every managed before.

_Hey Altaïr,what does that sign say?_

_Something indecent._

He sounded uncomfortable.

Ella grinned. This was going to be _fun_.

The hotel was a bit damp, and a little too musty than was comforting, but it wasn't intolerable.

_I've slept in worse places_, Altaïr commented as Ella eyed the bed skeptically.

"Says the guy who practically had an aneurism about the dorm bathroom," she muttered.

"Did you same something?" a yawning sophomore wandered in behind Ella, giving her a dull, confused stare.

"No, nothing."

* * *

_There was so, so much blood. The killer's only tell was the white hood, if you were fast enough to catch a glimpse. A false purity._

_A murderer, no matter their reasons._

* * *

The first thing Ella noticed was that it was cold.

_Really_ cold.

Had that sophomore she was sharing a room with cranked the AC up?

She irritably cracked open an eye.

Except...her eyes were already open, and she was moving.

There was freezing sand between her toes, but she couldn't feel it. Alarm set in as she woke up more fully, taking note that she was no longer in the hotel at all. She wasn't anywhere near the hotel.

_Altaïr, what the hell?_

_Stop panicking._

_You hijacked my body!_

_We couldn't waste any more time. The temple wasn't far._

_What does a temple have to do with anything?_

_Within is a piece of eden. _Altaïr reasoned. _I can feel its presence._

* * *

_Glorious, _Ella quipped, critically eyeing the crumbling structure in front of her.

"It once belonged to the Knights Templar."

_I'm aware of that. I _did _take world history, you know?_

Altaïr stepped forward into the ruins. Where Ella would have been tentative, Altaïr was confident, stepping firmly as if he instinctively knew which places would hold his weight. This was his element, Ella realized. Outside of killing people, that was.

Running around condemned, dangerous structures looking for weird, enchanted treasure. Something along those lines.

Hell, at this rate, Ella would be willing to believe cheese-making was in his job description, too. After all, everything else seemed to be.

_Are you sure you know what you're doing?_

Altaïr continued on smoothly, ducking through crevices and holes knit over by veils of spiderwebs, slowly descending into the cold, dank belly of the temple.

_Are you ignoring me?_

He brushed aside a leafy growth, and for a moment, Ella could've sworn her ring finger was missing.

_Altaïr, you have to let me back in control._

_You will only slow us down._

Being denied the rights to her own body, a flame of anger ignited in her consciousness, burning at Altaïr's tight hold.

"Stop this," he forced out, gritting his teeth and crouching down near a dust-coated pile of cracked rock and brick.

Something very small and very gold shimmered, just barely in his sight.

He reached forwards, the tips of his fingers ever so gently brushing its surface.

Something white and hot burst from the artifact, and for all things, Altaïr was sure something had in him exploded, setting fire to his core, burning him from the inside out.

* * *

**Updates are more of a variable than usual right now, as I have managed to give myself carpal tunnel. Yay!**

**Thanks to each and every one of my reviewers for your support and feedback! Please keep sharing your thoughts with me, they absolutely make my day. Also, please keep in mind that aside from a basic plot outline, this is a very reader-controlled story. Tell me what you want to see, and I will make it so.**

**Have an awesome night! I have psychology homework to get to, unfortunately.**


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